FILIPINO SCOUTS MET JAPANESE INVASION

Originally a 2 part article which I have condensed into one article. This article is about my grandpa, Eulalio Arzaga Sr, who currently lives in Killeen Texas.

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FILIPINO SCOUTS MET JAPANESE INVASION
By MARK BROADAWAY Killeen Daily Herald

We’re the battling bastards of Bataan;
No mama, no papa, no Uncle Sam;
No aunts, no uncles, no cousins, no nieces;
No pills, no planes, no artillery pieces.
… And nobody gives a damn.

Those grim words became the battle cry of former Filipino Scout Eulalio “Eli” Arzaga of Killeen, who helped defend the mountainous peninsula of Bataan for 14 weeks during the Japanese invasion of the Philippine island of Luzon.

With an empty stomach and sick body, his mind tortured by the strain of fighting with the knowledge that all hope of aid from the outside was gone, Arzaga fought until overwhelmed by hunger and disease.

“Beriberi swelled my face until I could hardly see,” recalled Arzaga, who joined the elite 26th Cavalry Regiment in March 1938.” By the time (Maj. Gen. Jonathan) Wainwright surrendered, I had the chills and my entire body was numb.”

Continue reading FILIPINO SCOUTS MET JAPANESE INVASION

HOW TO TELL IF YOU’RE AT A FILIPINO PARTY?

Here is a list or signs that will help you identify if you are at a Filipino Party. Feel free to comment and add any observances you may have to help others identify if they are indeed kickin’ it at a Pinoy Party.

~You’re an hour late and there’s still nobody there!

~There’s enough food to feed the Philippines.

~You can’t even get through the door because there’s a pile of 50 shoes blocking the way.

~You see a huge fork and spoon on the wall, a framed picture of the Last Supper, a huge Santo Nino, and a barrel man.

~Someone is singing “Peelings” on karaoke.

~There’s a piano in the living room for decoration.

~You are greeted by a Tita Baby and/or a Tito Boy.

~The older men are in the garage playing posoy-dos, poker or 31, the women are in the kitchen gossiping, or are playing mahjong, the other people are in the entertainment room singing karaoke, and the kids are outside the streets running around unsupervised.

~There’s a crazy woman with a camera going around the room snapping away and yelling, “Uy peeeek-chuuur!”

~You enter the party and you “Mano” to half the old crowd and when you leave you have to say goodbye to EVERYONE that’s related to you as a sign of respect. You end up saying hello and goodbye for a total of 30-40 minutes.

~You hear a male’s voice on the karaoke trying to emulate Frank Sinatra’s “My Way”.

~Women are still doing the line dance to “todo todo “..

~When there’s at least one or more with the name : JP,JJ, JT,TJ,DJ,AJ, RJ,LJ, Jun Jun, Bing bing, Ting ting, Ding ding, Weng weng, Bong bong, Dong dong etc.

~All the old aunties and guests are already wrapping up food to take home.

~You have the Pacquiao fight on the illegal cable boxes on the 70″ LCD in the movie room,
~The 10 yr old 50″ CRT in the living room,
~The 15 yr old 30″ tube in the breakfast nook,
~The 20 yr old 15″ tube in the kitchen,
~The 30 yr old 13” tube in the garage
~And the Little portable by the BBQ grill,
Because TVs are NEVER retired in a Filipino household, they merely get demoted to whichever room doesn’t have a TV yet(hahaha),then it ends up in the balikbayan box to be sent to a relative back home, and it ends up being the main TV at the house again.

~The women are showing off their “designer” Louis Vuitton and Coach bags that they secretly bought at a swap-meet.

~Someone is always in the kitchen constantly cleaning up, and you’re not sure if she’s the maid or a relative, so you greet and kiss them on the cheek anyway.

~Relatives/friends will ask you where you work and if it’s a retail job or if you work at an amusement park, they’ll ask if you can get them a discount.

~The lumpia is gone in 5 minutes and they are frying up another batch..

~I like how the religious gatherings at the house turn into an illegal gambling set up by the end of the night!!

~If you wrap a paper towel around any of the food, it becomes translucent.

~There needs to be at least one rice cooker. If there is no rice cooker, expect someone to go out and get a rice cooker themselves.

~If some stranger shows up at the party that you don’t recognize yet looks Filipino, everyone assumes that he or she is a relative.

~If you are thirty or over, conversation will always be about what high-paying jobs your kids have. And if your kid does not have a high paying job, it’s about what high paying job their spouse has. That’s because, among Filipinos, “conversation” is really a thinly-disguised game of clannish oneupmanship.

~There will always be tiny children running around the room, or crying. That is because Filipinos do not believe in baby-sitters.

~Everyone will be pretty much sitting down on chairs, the floor, or standing with a plate of food in front of them … unless karaoke is involved.

~There are 12 different dishes claiming to all be called the same thing

~Every car outside is a Toyota or BMW…or if it another type, it has stuffed toys in the rear window.

~The stereo is turned on, really loud, so is the tv and the kids are playing Nintendo.

~You put twice as much food on your plate that you normally do and the hostess asks you if you are on a diet.

~When a soda can is opened and hisses, everyone looks around.

~Every time your mom introduces you to someone, there is a “tita, tito, lolo, or lola” attached to the beginning of their name.

~More that half the people are either a Nurse and/or a letter carrier.

~When you use the “comfort room” there is no toilet paper but only a large cup.

~You caution non-filipino friends to avoid dishes jokingly referred to as “Chocolate Soup”

~When you yell out “Kuya Boy” and twelve jokers stand up.

I am Filipino, what can I do?

Last week I received word of an award winning author from the Philippines coming to National City to give a talk. I was intrigued not some much that a Filipino author was coming to town as I was in knowing more about his book, now in its 9th printing, entitled 12 Little Things Ever Filipino Can Do to Help Our Country. The same author also wrote the passionate award winning poem I am Filipino.

In breaking with Filipino tradition, I showed up early at Kalusugan Community Services in order to get some candid photos and catch up with folks I’ve not seen in a while. As I was watching people come and fill the room, I found myself standing next to a quiet gentleman, similar in size and age who looked oddly familiar. I started making small talk, mainly in hopes I could remember where I’ve met him. Well, about 2 minutes into our conversation, it hits me where I’ve seen him. His name is Alex Lacson, the author that everyone was coming to see that evening. By the way, his photo on the promotional flyer is exactly what he looks like in person.

Having personally organized dozens of these types of events, Alex came across as one of the most down to earth speaker I’ve had the honor of meeting. His words were soft yet heartfelt and he didn’t talk about himself or try to impress me with his accomplishments. His demeanor reminded me of another countryman, the former Philippines Ambassador, Albert de Rosario whom I had the pleasure of bringing to San Diego just before he retired.

Moments later, after the customary singing our national anthems, a prayer by Dr. Cudal and introduction by Tony Olaes, Mr. Lacson took hold of the mike and began a most captivating of speeches aimed at explaining our need to take care of Filipinos; not only here in America but Filipinos worldwide. He laid the groundwork by giving a brief history lesson about how the Philippines, in just under 40 years, went from being the number one country in Asia to being number seven. He went on to further discuss the current outlook of the Philippines and how we are now seen as having one of the most corrupt governments in Asia. Additionally its people are seen and portrayed as servants, objects of sexual ridicule or uneducated people – as seen in last year’s controversial show “Desperate Housewives” and on BBC’s show Paul and Harry Show.

Alex then went on to talk about the current state of affairs in the Philippines, referring to the November 24th, 2008 Time Magazine article entitled “The Motherless Generation” which showed that in the Philippines almost 10 million kids, 1 one 4, are growing up without a mother or father. Because the government cannot provide job for the parents, one or both parents are forced to seek work abroad. With so many Filipinos abroad, the lack of parental supervision and income has resulted in over 11 million school age children who are not able to attend school to get an education. It is this lack of education, Mr. Lacson purports, which prevents many Filipinos from being able to become good leaders and stewards, a basic component of any progressive society.

To overcome this disparity, it was suggested that Filipinos abroad, not only in America, but in other places such as Canada and Australia consider adopting a child and sponsoring their education. If 100,000 families sponsored just one child, imagine the potential of 100,000 more Filipinos being educated and going on to provide for their families and their country. With more people being educated comes the potential that a better selection of leaders can emerge to rise above the corruption and, by providing good stewardship, return the Philippines back to its former glory. No matter where we live, we are still One People, One Nation and mustn’t forget that what happens in the Philippines, either for the good or for the bad, affects us all. Each and every one of us is born a part of the whole, as part of the answer to the question, as part of the hope to our people. We are part of the SOLUTION, wherever we may be in the world.

Martin Luther King, Jr. once said that “There is no right time to do the right thing. Now, today, is the right time”. As a community, now is the time for all Filipinos to come together and be united for our motherland. We must come together as one Voice and demand our leaders here and in the Philippines be accountable. We need to vote for honest leaders who, given the power, can prove their worth. In doing so we will also benefit by become stronger since we will be voting out the corrupt leaders who feed their selfish needs at the expense of our people. As Jose Rizal is often quoted as saying “It only takes for good men to do nothing, for evil people to succeed”.
So how can each and every one of do our part to make the solution work? According to Alex, there are 12 simple things one can do, they are as follows:
1)Follow traffic rules. Follow the law.
2) Whenever you buy or pay for anything, always ask for an official receipt.
3) Don’t buy smuggled goods. Buy local. Buy Filipino.
4) When you talk to others, especially foreigners speak positively about us and our country.
5) Respect your traffic officer, policeman and soldier.
6) Do not litter. Dispose your garbage properly. Segregate. Recycle. Conserve.
7) Support your church.
8) During elections, do your solemn duty.
9) Pay your employees well.
10)Pay your taxes.
11)Adopt a scholar or a poor child.
12)Be a good parent. Teach your kids to follow the law and love our country.

Alex Lacson is a lawyer by profession. He finished law at the U.P. College of Law in Diliman. At present, he is a partner at the Malcolm Law Office in Makati. He was a former legal counsel of the United Nations Development Programme (or UNDP) in the Philippines for 7 years. He is a champion debater and a sharpshooter. He is an awardee of the Galing Pilipino Award for 2005. He is also an awardee of the Young Filipino Achiever’s Award for 2006 given by Global Pinoy. Mr. Lacson is married with 4 children.

Special thanks goes out to Gawad Kalinga – San Diego for bringing Alex Lacson to National City, to Goldilocks and Maharlika for providing food for the guests, to Tony Olaes & ODM and Eric Elagado & Associates for their sponsorship as well as Kalusugan Community Services for hosting the venue.

My Thought on Valentine’s Day

When you think of Valentine’s Day, what thoughts and feelings go through your mind? For many it conjures up romantic undertones and a chance to show off your romantic side. But beyond that what does Valentine’s Day really accomplish? This question popped up during my conversations on-line using the social networking site known as Facebook. For those who are unfamiliar with Facebook, it is a web site where you create a profile and then link it up with your friends and family. What makes Facebook so appealing to Filipinos is the ability to interact with our friends at any time by leaving them messages or chatting in real time. Comments are always a highlight as all your friends are able to see the comments left by you and other as well as reply to them. A cyber-conversation if you will.

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You know you’re pushing forty when:

As I sit here on my 39th birthday, I am contemplating life. It seems to go in phases doesn’t it, or rather in decades. You’re a child for ten or so years, then a teenager. Soon enough you’ve made it as a twenty something and then that pivotal thirty crops up. By then you feel just a little pressure…you’re not quite middle aged yet, but it’s just around the corner, so watch out. Before you know it the big four-o is looming. You reflect on your life and wonder ‘what the hell happened to my thirties?’ ‘What did I do exactly?’ You don’t even remember half your twenties, and it’s not just because of the alcohol consumption in college. Or maybe it is. Your childhood is so far away in the past it seems like a dream. A very nice one too! Ah to be a child again. But I digress.

When I was growing up I used to hear the phrase ‘life begins at forty’ and thought ‘man that’s a long way off’. In fact it seemed like a few lifetimes away. It’s amazing how it creeps up on you, isn’t it. I just hope and pray it’s all true.

I’ve got ONE year left…and the signs are there …so here we go… Thirty nine signs the big ‘four-o’ is coming.

You know you’re pushing forty when:
1. Your son asks “who’s Billy Ray Cyrus?”
2. You ask your kids “who the hell is Hannah Montana?”
3. Teenagers annoy the heck out of you!
4. You start eyeing the suspenders when you go shopping at Wal-Mart. The boxers look pretty tempting too.
5. You hear ‘Get into the Groove’ on the oldies station and remember dancing to it when it first came out.
6. You remember where you were when President Regan was shot.
7. You know what a Commodore 64 is!
8. You’re still happy with your cassette tapes… thank you very much.
9. You start going to more funerals than weddings.
10. In second grade you thought your teacher was old… now you are even older.
11. You remember life before cell phones.
12. You still use a VCR.
13. Grandparents don’t seem so old…you’ve met Grandparents your same age.
14. You never thought you’d see the day when a black man and a white woman were fighting for a presidential nomination…how old is McCain again?
15. Your wife’s co-worker says she was only 8 when 90210 was on TV…after doing some simple math you realize you’re 14 years older.
16. A good night on the town means eating out.
17. When they find out your age young people say ‘I didn’t know you were that old.’
18. You start hanging round with sixty year olds so you can feel like the young one of the group.
19. Family members start saying annoying things like ‘you’re not getting any younger.’
20. You start seriously thinking about the pension plan you haven’t got.
21. You start complaining that the music your neighbors are playing is too loud.
22. You’d just as soon have cereal for dinner.
23. You remember when you had three television stations to choose from and they all went off the air at night after playing the national anthem.
24. You just can’t stay up all night drinking any more…and show up for work.
25. You start thinking that maybe you need to act more responsible and mature.
26. You fall asleep during movies.
27. You start saying things like ‘when I was a kid, things were different’ or ‘kids today have it easy’, and ‘we had to walk to school…and back.’
28. You think today’s music is crap, just like what your dad said about any music you listened to that wasn’t Country.
29. You remember when all kids played outside…where are they now?
30. Someone offers you a seat on the bus. And you don’t refuse.
31. You start paying attention to the medical ads on television.
32. Step one of any exercise program begins with ‘get off the couch’.
33. The grey hairs begin to outnumber the black hairs.
34. And you pray that the grey ones won’t fall out.
35. You have more in common with your parents than you do with your kids.
36. First thing you do in the morning is the obituary column, and if you name isn’t there, you get out of bed.
37. You lived through the Eighties the first time around, which means today you’re wise enough to avoid hideous style revivals like luminous clothes, jump suits and leg warmers.
38. You are no longer carded when you purchase alcohol
39. Paul Newman movies start to make sense.

Road trip with the family

I can’t believe it, 20 years since I graduated from High School. A lot went through my mind as I packed up the family and we made our way up to the podunk town of Madras. This journey was different for me since this was the first time I was going to drive to Oregon. What usually takes me three and half hours via United, was going to be a bit longer this time around.

Since the wifely person has never been to Oregon, or Northern California for that matter, she wanted to take the scenic route when ended up going through San Francisco then up the 101 to the Redwood Forest and then around Crater Lake and then finally on into Madras. In total it took us four days and 1225 Miles to get to Madras. Along the way we discovered some nice hotels and one really sucky one in San Francisco. Tip #1. When you have three young boys, it is best to find a hotel that provides suites. The one we had in Crescent City even had a full kitchen which was nice since all the restaurants were closed by the time we arrived.

Tip #2 GPS. I’m not sure how we ever got along without GPS systems. But let me tell you, it was sure nice having that bad boy in our car. A big change from trying to read a AAA map when you are driving around in a big town like San Francisco. I used to think MapQuest was leading edge, but even that has to take a back seat. In addition to our Garmin GPS I have GPS on my iphone, and with the Goggle map overlay, I can actually see the road I’m on and the surround area. Yeah I’m a techie nerd and even though I think Apple messed up big time on the new iphone it does have a couple of neat functions. The mapping and the e-mail are the two I use the most. But I digress… What a GPS system does is get you from point A to Point B. It may not find the most sensible route as Ashley, my step daughter, pointed out when we picked her up in Portland to visit my brother in Washington. I have to agree with her, because our GPS tried to force me to take a longer route from Portland to Newport. I finally had to turn it off because the lady kept telling me I was off route.

The trip up to Oregon was surprising enjoyable, once we got on the road. I think there was only one time we had to make an unscheduled stop and that was because Jfloated righton Jon decided to blow chunks. Something he managed to do four times on our trip. The second time, I didn’t even know he had thrown up. We were in San Francisco on the Fisherman’s Warf and both Jun and Jon were in the twin stroller. I kept hearing a kid crying, and even though I kept turning around to see where the kid was it was all for naught. Finally I looked through a slit in the stroller’s cover and noticed something white and creamy all over Jonathan. It seems that the Ben and Jerry Ice Cream we got him didn’t sit too well with him and he tossed that and something orange all over himself. Luckily being in tourist trap central we were able to find cheap shirts (cheap as in quality, not price) for him to wear

floated leftFor those who are planning on going to San Francisco and seeing Lombard street, I would highly suggest driving up to the street rather than walking to it since it is on a VERY steep hill and pushing a double stroller with kids will zap whatever energy you may have. If you do walk, as I discovered once we got to the top, there is the option of taking the trolley there. I guess that could be considered tip #3.

floated rightAfter San Francisco, we made our way up Highway 101. We stopped by a small grove of Redwoods that is known for one simple fact, that being a large hole in one of the trees that you can drive through for the low low price of $5. It was pretty cool to go through although it was a tight fit for our Sienna as I had about 3 inches on each side with the mirrors folded inward.

I think the drive up the 101 and through the redwood forests was special for the wifely person as she was introduced to real trees and forests. For me, growing up in Oregon and camping every summer, trees are not a novelty for me. floated leftThe same goes for snow, which the aforementioned wifely person refused to believe when I pointed it out to her as we got to the top of Crater Lake. I think her statement was “It can’t be snow, its 76 degrees outside.” She then accused me of planting a bunch of Styrofoam before hand to trick her. When I threw a snowball at her she quickly realized that it was, in fact, snow.

For those familiar with Central Oregon, they know that it rarely rains and the sun is always shining. A fact that I kept telling the wifely person every chance I get. But on the day that we arrived in Central Oregon, it hailed and rained like nobody’s business. It wasn’t for another three days before the sky cleared up enough for her to see the Cascade Mountains.

The class reunion was held over a three day period and I will talk about that more in my next blog as there is way to much to talk about in this installment.

The time spend in Madras was, for the boys, heaven. They had over an acre of land to play on with the highlight being the two tires hanging from my mom’s apricot tree. For Jun Jun, the tires were only a means for reaching the bottom branch and climbing high up into the tree.

The town itself has grown bigger. Now, instead of taking 2 minutes to get through town, it take 3 minutes, a bit longer if you get stuck at the red lights they put in. They also changed the intersections on the north end of town which made it a bit harder to get to McDonalds since the entrance that used to be there has been moved and now you have to drive a couple of more blocks to get to the entrance.

floated leftAfter spending time in Madras, we made our way through the Warm Springs Indian Reservation where I worked for several years. It appeared that not all that much has changed there, Deschutes Crossing is there, as is the museum and range horses hunkered below the closest available juniper tree.

From there we moseyed our way north through Hood River so that we could get some spectacular views of Mt. Hood. We followed the Columbia River up to Multnomah Falls, the second most visited place in Oregon (a casino near Portland is the #1 for those wondering). floated rightSince it was at the end of summer, not a lot of water was coming over the falls, but even the water that was coming over provided a serene environment for the boys to scarf down some ice cream and black berries that I picked along the way.

When we got to Portland, we picked up Ashley who is gearing up to go to Portland Community College. We drove over to visit my brother Bobby who lives in Vancouver Washington. We arrived at his new place but he was nowhere in sight. A quick call revealed that he was picking up his son and was be right over as soon as the bus picked him us. An hour later and still no show, we left as we had plans to visit my other brother Ron. So we drove back to Portland and met up with Ron and his wife Laura, whom I had the pleasure of meeting for the first time. Ron works for Nike so I was able to score some black Labron James basketball shoes which usually go for around $110. Yeah, I was stoked too. It was nice to catch up with him and talk about stories of growing up that our dad denies ever happening. It was getting late and we had to get Ashley back to her place before driving another two and half hours to Newport. A shame really because it has been a while since I had last seen Ron, and both the wifely persons seemed to enjoy hanging out with each other and watching the tv show Jon & Kate plus 8.

With the boys packed into the minivan we make our way to the Oregon Coast and to Newport. There was some debate on the route to take which eventually let me to turn off the GPS since it wanted me to take a longer route through Salem. We finally rolled into Newport around midnight as my dad was putting the finishing touches on our sleeping arraignments which turned out to be their RV, which was equipped with a queen size bed, two tvs with satellite, full kitchen, a nice sized living room with a fireplace, and the coolest toilet that Jun had ever seen.

We stayed there for two nights before making our way back home. While in Newport the boys got to play with their cousins Dray and Cole who were spending the week with their grandparents as my brother-in-law Jerry was undergoing colon surgery. For the most part the boys had a blast playing with each other.  Grandpa Ed even took them down to the beach to play and fly kites which gave the wifely person, Jordan and myself a chance to go to the old bayfront, check out the sea lions and eat at Mo’s, which is a must for anyone who loves clam chowder. We enjoyed our time there so much that I ended up getting a parking ticket for parking over 2 hours. Since it was only $10 I would say that was a pretty good bargain since most other touristy areas charge twice that to park.

floated rightWe decided to stay an extra day since it was my dad’s birthday and it would be a shame that his favorite son was not there to celebrate it with him. The extra day gave us a chance to take everyone over to the horse stables so Cowboy Ed could show off their horses. This was the first time that the wifely person and her offspring were able to ride a real horse. I think this was a major highlight for them and by the looks on their faces, I know they enjoyed riding a horse. All was not without a bit of work on my part as I ended up having to shoveling horse manure, something I was relegated to doing as a young kid growing up in Madras.

From Newport, we make our way to Eugene, Oregon where I attended college at the University of Oregon and lived prior to moving to down to San Diego. I wished we could have spent more time in Eugene as I really love it there and wanted to take the family to a lot of places around the city. As it was, we spent about three hours there as I showed them the campus, spent time stocking upon U of O gear at the bookstore, and ate at one of the best Chinese restaurants next to the campus.

From Eugene, we started or descent back to California. Not sure it if was all the driving, the lack of sleep or the good Chinese food, but about half hour in I got really sleepy and thankfully the wifely person took over the driving and allowed me a chance to get a quick nap in.

We decided to try and make it to Sacramento which was seven and half hours away. Since I was not driving, I was able to log on to the internet via my iphone and visit hotels.com where I was able to locate a nice hotel just of I-5. If you ever need a place to stay, Hawthore Suites is a nice roomy place to lay your head. The beds and pillows are the softest and the free breakfast, provided you wake up before 9:30 am, will surely fill your stomach.

Coming off a nice rest, I was up to doing some major driving the next day and wanted to drive the last 550 miles back to San Diego. Since we came up I-5 from L.A. to San Francisco, and trust me that is a boring ass drive unless you like looking at a bunch of wasted land and one huge stinky cattle farm, we decided to drive down hwy 99 which is only 10 miles longer. For me it was a whole difference experience since we went through a lot of little farm towns and had places to stop and each once we got hungry.

Coming into L.A. at 6 PM on a Friday was not the most anticipated part of the journey. Fortunately for me, my iphone with Goggle Earth overlay showed where the slow traffic was and we decided to take I-10 to I-15 and then in to San Diego. There was only a brief delay once we got onto the 10 but after that it was smooth sailing all the way home. The only excitement occurred near Temecula where we came across a car fire. I told the wifely person to take a picture as we passed by so she grabbed her camera and rolled down the window. As she snapped a photo the car exploded which solicited a scream from her. It was a big enough blast that I could feel the heat from the burning car.

Thirteen days after leaving for Oregon we finally arrived back home safe and sound around 9:30 pm.

Overall we had a safe and enjoyable journey. Our van never broke down, we were not in any wrecks, nothing was stolen, we were never pulled over by the police despite driving at 75-80 MPH most of the way.

Parking Ticket: $10
Food, $320
Cost of Gas $500
Hotels $575
Spending time with my wife and kids, Priceless

Fourth of July

***This is just a rant folks, from a long time Oregonian living in Southern California who often times misses the comforts afforded to those living in Oregon.***

Today is July 4th. The date that many American’s look forward to every year. That one time when, most Americans get to let off some steam by setting off fireworks. I say most only because down here in California they don’t allow fireworks. Gay marriages and texting on your cell phone while driving are legal, heck even shooting whales from a moving vehicle (provided you are not shooting them with a firecracker) is legal.

It sucks. Plain and simple. The first year I was down here I went with my aunt and parents to Mexico and had a wonderful time down there. Pretty much everything in Mexico is legal there, but you should be forewarned that the quality of the fireworks are not regulated so you do have some risk of your fireworks not doing what you think they should be doing. The same goes for the quality of the gas they sell at the pumps, but that is a whole other story.

What I find odd down here in southern California, which is vastly different than Oregon, is there are no firework booths. In Oregon, come early June you see fireworks booths sprout up on practically every street corner. They sprout up overnight- much like a Starbucks location. Of course, even in Oregon, your selections is a bit limited to some nifty sparklers, smokes bombs and spewing volcano’s that whistle so loud they ring in your ears for the next week. So for the true enthusiast, an annual trip to the city of White Swan on the Yakama Indian reservation in Washington was a much needed pilgrimage. No holds barred there. Roman candles, Black Cats, Red Rats, heck even M-80 and dynamite could be found and purchased there.

Getting back to my rant on no fireworks on the 4th. I suppose that living down here, we do get a lot of fires started by fireworks. But I want to clear up this misconception. The fires are not started by fireworks, they are started by pyromaniacs, idiots and cow pie eating nimrods. Saying that fires are started by fireworks is like saying guns kill people. Guns don’t kill people, people kill people.

Unfortunately, down here, we have an over abundance of numbnuts and meadow muffin eating wankers, not to mention this being the mecca for village idiots to spend their summer vacations, So I guess I can understand the concern for locals not wanting their million dollar homes torched up.

In a quick view of videos on youtube, there are endless videos of people showing you how not to play with fireworks. Of course the titles don’t say “how not to play with fireworks”. The titles generally are more inclined to say something like “redneck fireworks”, “a funny thing happened to Bubba on the 4th” or “the reason why the fire department had to come and rescue a tailess cat from a tree”.

As luck would have it these folks have ruined the fun for the rest of us and now we, in southern California, have lost out on one of the most beloved traditions on one of the most adored holiday.

So tonight, in order to squeeze out some enjoyment over kicking the British out of country, I am relegated to taking my boys over to an over packed Olympic Training Center to watch a 5 minute production put on by evil dictators and fascists or, as the wifely person calls them, the Homeowners Association.

Happy Fourth of July everyone and I will do my best to enjoy what little freedom I still have.

…WTF, no sparklers, that womps!

***follow up. I was in error about the fireworks lasting 5 minutes. This year the Home Owners Association went all out and gave us an enhanced version which lasted 9 minutes.***

They go in three’s

They say when people die, they go in three. For me, the three who recently passed away, never knew each other, in fact one, never even met me. But all three has some level of impact on me and who I am today.

The first person to pass away was Meet the Press moderator Tim Russert. This was an unexpected death that caught America off guard. Tim was one of the few on-air talent who you could watch and actually learn something. Most interviewers I watch have their own agenda and their interviews tend to come off very bias. CNN and FOX are both guilty of this and, at least for me, makes me change the channel faster than a gas station attendant changing the price of gas on a billboard. (yeah, that is pretty damn fast).

Perhaps this is why folks tend to feel disassociated with many of the political driven shows. Whatever happened to unbiased interviewing? I think the only one left now with any creditability is Larry King, and from the looks of him, he’s not far from joining up with Tim.

Getting back to Tim, he was one of those interviews who weren’t afraid to ask the hard questions, no fluffball questions from him. But what made it truly unique is that he let the person answer the question that he asked. How many times have you watched an interview and the interviewer interrupted the person answering the questions before allowing them to fully answer the question? To me that is just plain disrespectful. If you are going to ask a question, at least give the person the chance to fully answer the question. You can always rebut after they are finished.

I see myself a lot in this manner. I am not afraid to ask the hard questions, when I feel they need to be asked. People do need to be accountable for their actions and if they say something they should stand by their words. This, my friends, is what we call integrity. I have much more respect for someone who is honest with me than someone who tells me what they think I want to hear. I know that life is about differences and it’s okay to agree to disagree.

Let’s hope that in death, Tim will become a model for other interviewers and moderators. Then perhaps Americans will turn the channel from watching crappy shows like “Desperate Housewives” and “SwingTown” and begin to be more involved and educated in the Politics of America.

The second person to pass on was Ann Kittredge, mother of Dan Kittredge who happens to be married to my Aunt Lilly thus making him my Uncle. Ann, for those who have not had the opportunity to meet her, was a woman who loved her independence. When I met her in 2000, I wasn’t quite sure what to make of her. Although she was disabled, she got around by pushing a cart in front of her. But it was her constant smile and positive outlook on life that really set her apart.

This cart of hers that she pushed around always contained an assortment of goodies. Foremost of which were doggy treated for Uncle Dan’s three legged dog, Coco. It was a happy day for Coco when ever Ann came to visit. Her cart also contained gifts and cards for who ever was celebrating a special occasion such as a birthday, an anniversary or, baptism.

What struck me as unique about Ann was her ability to be interested in just about any topic. She was able to talk about anything and if she didn’t know she wasn’t afraid to ask. Perhaps her knowledge of life came from her love of books. I doubt I will ever meet anyone who enjoyed reading more than she did. Whenever I took my boys by to visit her house was overfilled with all sorts of books and it wasn’t uncommon for her to be reading two or three books at a time.

She appeared to be a very good listener, I say appeared because her hearing was not the best and I think at times that she just smiled and nodded in hope that the talker wouldn’t feel put off.

My dad commented to me recently that Ann appeared to be more interested in learning about others than she was in letting others know about her. One could argue that she did this in order to keep others from knowing more about her, but I suspect it was her way of making the other person feel special. There is a secret, if you will, in getting other people to feel better about themselves. People love to talk about themselves and if you can get some to talk about themselves and their experiences, they will warm up to you very quickly and leave with a better impression of you.

I think it was her independence or reluctance to rely on others that lead to her death. It is sad really, since she had much more life to live. The medical conditions that led to her untimely death could have been prevented had she allowed those close to her to intercede. I know that both my wife and I were planning on visiting her when she was released from the hospital. So you can imagine the surprise we got upon learning of her passing. We never did get that chance to see her. She died before being able to see our youngest son. She adored our older two boys and always sent cards to them on their birthdays with something special inside, usually money or a savings bond.

Our youngest is turning one next month and, perhaps as a final goodbye, Ann had left a birthday card for Jordan to be mailed out next month. Right now it is sitting on our piano waiting for Jordan to turn one. It will be sad opening the card, but I know that the joy and love that Ann had for our kids will be contained inside the card until it is opened and then it will be released for all to enjoy.

I would be amiss if I didn’t tell at least one Ann story. Ann always had a fascination for money. Not so much for creating wealth but more about the history and uniqueness of it. On one occasion she had given me a card for my birthday and told me I couldn’t open it until then. Since I was flying back home to Oregon, I placed the card in my carry-on luggage without a second thought. That was, until I went through security where I was flagged for carrying an unknown object. The TSA folks took a thorough looking into my carry-on to find out what this object was. It turned out to be a silver dollar encased in a plastic box complete with a letter of authenticity. I guess my birthday came early that year.

The last person in this trilogy to pass away was my favorite teacher in high school, Larry Larson. I suppose he wasn’t my favorite while in high school but in retrospect he was probably one of the best high school teachers one could ever had. I had him for two classes, accounting and business law. It was in business law that for the first time I discovered my true ability to learn. While I did make honor roll in high school I was by no means at the top of my class. Extracurricular activities such as sports, band and taking care of things at home often took president over studying. However, to pass Mr. Larson’s class one needed to study and be prepared for class the next day.

Mr. Larson had an uncanny way of calling on one of his students to answer a question. He never looked directly at you. In fact he would look directly at another student when he asked you a question. Suffice to say, it was always a good thing when he was looking at you. I am pretty sure I wasn’t his favorite student, but I have no doubt that I was one of his most memorable students. I think I may still hold the record for most questions asked in his class. I guess it was my way of testing him to see if I could get him to break. Inadvertently, I suppose, it was my asking all those questions that actually caused me to learn the subject matter. So much so that when I competed in Future Business Leaders of America competitions, I won in the area of Business Law. I did so well that I found myself competing in the national level in Cincinnati. While I didn’t win at the national level, it was nice to know that I was one of the top students in the nation when it came to business law. Not bad for some little bastard half-breed kid from a Podunk town in the middle of Oregon.

I guess it was around that time that I felt that there was something more to life to learn and while it wasn’t easy making the transition from high school to college, I was able to get three degrees over a ten year period, mostly by asking ton’s of questions to my professors and bugging them to no end.

One thing that stood out about Mr. Larson, apart from the fact that he was colorblind (which opened large doors for those who loved to play tricks on him i.e. painting his podium a bright orange) was his foresight to understand that most of what we need to learn in life isn’t taught in regular classes. He was the first one to address death and how to deal with it. For many of us in his classes, death was not something we had to deal with; after all we are teen agers and were going to live forever.

During that week that he taught us about death and the stages of grieving thank in part to Elisabeth Kübler Ross, most of us learned skills that would prepare use for the inevitable. Sadly a week after our graduation one of our classmates dies in a head on car crash. For me as an EMT and being on the first ambulance to arrive and the one to identify her, death, it seems was not so distant. I know that what helped many of us deal with this sudden death was our ability to recognize the stages and use the skills that Mr. Larson taught us just weeks before.

Over the ten years that I spent as an EMT, I experienced death first hand in many forms. What was hardest about it for me was not seeing the person who died, but seeing the people who were directly or vicariously affected by the death. Observing how loved ones reacted to the death is not an easy thing to behold, especially if the death was unexpected, which tended to be the case in the Indian Reservation where I worked. I only wish that more students would learn about death and dying in high school. If they have time to teach our kids on how to have safe sex I’m sure they can make time to teach them on how to deal with death.

So I take my hat off to Mr. Larson and quietly say a quick thank you as I remember him and his love of the classroom. I only wish that more teachers, especially English teachers, had the passion and love for teaching that he had and made it a point to challenge their students.

…..Rest in Peace Tim, Ann and Larry, You will be missed.

Memorial Day

Today is Memorial Day, Formerly known as Decoration Day, it commemorates U.S. men and women who perished while in military service to their country. First enacted to honor Union soldiers of the American Civil War, it was expanded after World War I to include casualties of any war or military action.

Memorial Day was officially proclaimed on 5 May 1868 by General John Logan, national commander of the Grand Army of the Republic, and was first observed on 30 May 1868, when flowers were placed on the graves of Union and Confederate soldiers at Arlington National Cemetery.

Growing up in Central Oregon, Memorial Day, much like Veterans Day, was just another holiday that gave us a day off from school and a chance to play outside, have a BBQ or go camping in the woods. It really held no significance to me at the time since we didn’t really have or know of anyone who perished while serving their country.

Fast forwarding to today, a lot has changed since the 1980’s. The biggest change in my life is arguably the locating of my birth families and discovering the legacy they have left behind. My grandpa, who just turned 91 years old this year, is a former Filipino Scout and US Army Captain. He was a POW during WWII and part of the atrocious Bataan Death March where he was able to escape with his life, but not after witnessing his two brothers succumb to death at the hands of the Japanese. He was also a part of the Korean War where he served on behalf of the US Army based out of Fort Hood, TX.

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My grandpa had 8 children, seven girls and one boy, the oldest name Eulalio Arzaga Jr. who was born on April 9, 1942, ironically this was the same day that Japan invaded the Philippines. After General McArthur liberated the Philippines, many Filipino solders, including my grandfather was absorbed into the US Army. In 1951, along with his wife and now 5 children, they came to the US through San

Francisco and made their way to Camp Campbell in Arkansas where they stayed briefly before moving to Killeen Texas, home of the largest Army base in the free world, know as Fort Hood.

While growing up in the military town of Killen, Eulalio Jr., or Junior as he was known to everyone (expect his sisters who knew him simply as brother) aspired to serve his country and opted to join the Air Force after graduating from the University of Texas. While in the Air Force he rose to the level of Captain where he was a pilot with the 86 MAS out of Travis AFB. This was during the Viet Nam war and he spent much of his time flying between Vietnam and the United States.

Tragedy struck on November 25, 1970 when Ely’s plane, a F-4 Phantom, malfunctioned while landing and he was ejected from the plane killing him upon impact. He was flown back to Killen Texas and laid to rest by his parents and 7 sisters. His name, along with 12 others from Killeen who died during the Vietnam War was added to a memorial honoring the brave solders from Killeen who died serving their country.

11 months before his untimely death, Junior became a father of a baby boy. He was not aware of the actual birth as the mother, a nurse in the Army who was to be wed to him, got cold feet and called the wedding off. She then traversed her way up to Oregon where she gave birth to a boy who was immediately given up for adoption.

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After his death, Junior’s sisters began a nationwide search for the runaway bride in hopes of tracking her down and locating the child that she gave birth to. Unfortunately for them their leads never panned out and they were unable to locate her.

Fast forward 30 years later to Oregon, where the voters approved a bill that allowed Adoptees access to their pre-adoption birth certificates. Junior’s son, being one of the adoptees was able to obtain his pre-adoption birth certificate. Regrettably it only contained the name of his birth mother as the birth fathers name was left blank. To keep a long story short, he was able to track down his birth mother and subsequently track down his birth family on his father’s side.

It was a glorious and bitter sweet reunion when the long lost son reunited with his birth fathers family. He was able to finally reunite with his Filipino family who embraced him with arms wide open. It was especially memorable for Eulalio Sr, who has lost his only son in the Viet Nam war to be reunited with a grandson. For you see, at this time, there was no one to carry on the family name as both of his brothers died in the Bataan Death March and his only son died on Thanksgiving Day in 1970.

It was during this reunion, that Junior’s son, along with his birth mother, was able to finally visit his father’s grave site. This was the first and last time the three of them would ever be together.

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As you probably know by now, the boy who was born to Eulalio Jr., the one that Junior’s sisters spend countles

s hours search for, the only one who could carry on the family name is me.

I still remember the day that I found my birth family only to learn that my father died when I was only 11 months old. It was a day of mixed emotions. I had finally found my family, only to discover that my birth father, the person I most wanted to meet and talk to, was dead. It wasn’t until I visited his grave site that the full impact of my emotions hit me. It felt good to cry that day, something I don’t often do. There are so many questions I would have liked to ask him and stories I would have loved to hear from him. For just one moment I would have loved to see his face and his smile as he gazed upon me. To have him hold me in his arms to let me know how much he missed me and how happy he was to finally meet me.

But that will never happen. The cold reality is that he has passed on and as he lays next to his mother in a cemetery in Killeen Texas I am comforted by the fact that he is survived by 6 sisters and one terrific father (and one run-away bride) who have been able to tell me stories about him.

So on this day, Memorial Day, I set aside time to think of the father I never met, who unselfishly gave his life for this country. Thank you for protecting my country and thank you for giving me life. I will always miss you.

I love you.

Joseph Roley-Arzaga Sr.
Memorial Day, May 26, 2008

What the #@^!* is TISOY?

Tisoy. For many of you this probably the first time you hear of the word Tisoy. You are probably thinking to yourself, WTF is a Tisoy? Tisoy is a Tagalog (Filipino) word describing someone who is of mixed race. In my case, Filipino and Scottish.

For many bi-racial and multi-racial people the identity of race always poses a unique situation. Often times they are view by society as being “Half” or placed in a situations where they are viewed as not quite being up to the standards of being “Full”. When someone asks me what my race is, I reply “I’m Filipino” invariably the next words out of their mouth are “You don’t look Filipino, you must be half?”

I’m sure it isn’t said in malice, but I often feel like I have to justify who I am because I am not as dark, I’m not as short, I don’t have a button nose, or for some reason I just don’t fit into the mold of what they view as what a Filipino is.

So lately when people ask me what I am, I tell them I’m 100% Tisoy which seems to make those who understand Tagalog content. They understand that I’m mixed race, but at the same time I understand, at least in part, Tagalog so I must be Filipino enough for them. I guess many of the older generation the reply of being 100% Tisoy isn’t what then expect and my response more than not, is a great ice breaker and I enjoy watching their faces as they digest my response.

For those who insist on me being Half Filipino, can you please let me know what part of me is Filipino? Is my left hand Filipino. How about my ears, which one is Filipino and which one is not. Both of my eyes are brown, so perhaps those are Filipino. I am fluent in one of the two official languages of the Philippines, so perhaps if I learn the other official language, that would make me full.

Perhaps I would be seen as more Filipino if I pronounce my “F’s” as “P;s” and my “V’s” and “B’s” or added stuffed animals in my back windows of all of our cars.

So, what is a Tisoy? Well it is, as the philosopher José Vasconcelos Calderón states in his essay, La Raza Cósmica, it is the fifth race, the next step up in the evolutionary chain. Or in today’s politically correct terminology, A tisoy is simply a Hybrid.

When was the last time you enjoyed the thrill of an original hybrid? And no, I”m not talking about the Toyota Prius.